From Ruse to Reality
by shadowed.phoenix
Summary: James has never been in love with Lily, and she has never been in love with him. But when a threatening situation throws the two into a ruse of being together, they just might discover that teamwork goes a long way. And that love goes even farther.
1. One

Author's Notes: This fic will _not _be long. It will _not_ follow cannon. It is _not_ well written. And, most importantly, it will _not_ be angsty. It probably will not even be good. It is simply a raging plot bunny that was convenient since I've run out of inspiration for TRWW.

* * *

That had been the most _peculiar_ meeting. If the surprise of being named Head Boy hadn't been enough, the sudden revelation as to why covered all bases. James had known, of course, that there was the hint of a stirring dark lord. He had known that his father was working tirelessly to stop such a stirring and that, thus far, the results were not exactly satisfactory. But what he had not expected was to be called into Dumbledore's office on the first day of school in order for the old man to tell him that such a dark lord was a threat, and that the fight against him would begin here, at Hogwarts.

James had seriously doubted that. After all, there hadn't been a dark wizard rising since Grindewald—ages ago. And surely he would've been told if this new fellow was a real danger. His father wouldn't keep him in the dark like that. Or at least, he didn't think so.

Dumbledore had been positive, however, and James had suddenly found himself bathed in knowledge on a student named Tom Riddle, and then on the creature Voldemort. He had been in that office for more than two hours, simply probing and learning and discovering things that he wasn't altogether sure Dumbledore had the license to tell him. Not that it mattered.

But by far the most shocking detail was that he was supposed to do something about it. James had been hexing Slytherins since he first sat under the Sorting Hat; he had been defending his friends since their very first prank, and captaining the Quidditch team since fifth year. However, he had never thought himself some sort of… of leader, a protector of the small.

Apparently, the headmaster thought he was up to the job. It was the reason he bore this badge, and so he would uphold it. Look out for those smaller, or weaker, or even those just lesser in the eyes of others. There was a war to be unfolded, and it would begin within these halls. And he was charged with taking the offensive and carrying the banner of the light.

How _odd_.

* * *

"Hey, you! Head Boy! Potter—_Potter_! Hey, James!"

James spun, one brow raised artfully towards the ceiling, twirling his wand effortlessly around two fingers. "Who're you?"

"Alice Johnson, sixth year prefect—but that's not the point. There's a fight. Again."

These fights were getting really _old_. There had been seven in the three months since school began, and after James sorted out the first one he had become sort of an… an icon. Every time there was the slightest skirmish someone was bound to come running to him, and while he rather thought that this was what Dumbledore expected, it was cursed annoying.

"Where?"

"The Quidditch pitch; are they ever anywhere else? And it's Dolohov this time, the nasty bloke." She appeared disgusted, and though James would have loved to just let the victim learn to fight their own fight, for once, he knew how Dolohov could get. He was the only seventh year of the pack that seemed intent on torturing those 'beneath' them, and by far the best with a hex.

"Fine. Are you coming?"

She shook her head, gesturing up the stairs James had been about to climb. "I'm supposed to be tutoring. I just found you and figured I'd let you handle it. Those second years will wreck the library within three seconds."

He nodded, but paid no more attention to her than that, marching swiftly down the corridors. His wand was now steady in his hand, and the scowl creasing his features was ferocious. James was getting so sick of these stupid battles—didn't they realize it was only going to lead to a trip to the hospital wing and a detention?

The main doors were already opened, a fact he found disheartening, as he would have liked to slam them nearly off their hinges. However, he'd just have to make do with what he got. Practically stomping down the stairs, he took off across the lawn at a swift jog, hazel gaze trained upon the Quidditch pitch. Even from here he could see the flickering color of thrown spells, which could be neither a good nor bad sign. On one hand, it might mean whoever they were pestering could actually hold their own. On the other, it might mean that Dolohov was having rather too much fun with this game.

There was already a crowd gathered out on the pitch. Several still held brooms in their hands; it seemed as though someone's Quidditch practice had been interrupted. With a few shoves and absolutely no pardons, James found his way forcefully through the crowd, eyes alighting on the scene before him.

The odds were so uneven that he wanted to be sick. Dolohov, Jugson, Macnair, and Wilkes were all throwing wild curses at some poor student. Said student had managed—somehow—to erect what probably began as a beautiful shielding charm, but was falling fast under the curses of four senior Slytherins.

"Aren't you goin' to come out and play, my lovely little Mudblood?" James could see, even from here, that the sadistic Dolohov seemed rather more intent than usual—and that, if James was any judge, this was a victim he wanted for more than one reason. Poor soul.

"C'mon, sweetheart, you know you can't hold that for much longer." That was Wilkes, and James could see that he was right. Even now, the golden glimmer was shrinking, fading fast into whoever was trying fiercely to complete it.

As a particularly wild hex—one even James didn't recognize—was thrown at the shielding charm, it broke him into action. Luckily, the quartet seemed not to have realized that the crowd behind them had grown silent, or that they had a new member. A few well-placed stupefies and a brief skirmish with Jugson later, the four were being rapidly tied up with yet another spell, and James was moving forward to confront whoever was still holding their shield

Coming forward, hands splayed open in a gesture of peace, he ambled toward the student. "It's alright. It's all over now. I'll deal with them later—just put down your charm, okay? It's alright, don't worry."

He tried for a soothing tone, but just didn't have the energy in him to manage much more than mildly comforting. Taking the last few steps towards the final shimmers of magic, he couldn't help but wince as it was finally dropped.

"Go on, you lot, get out of here!" He spun, shouting to the lingering students, who left swiftly at the reprimand of their Head Boy. Once he was sure all were out of sight, James dropped carefully to his knees next to the sobbing young woman.

"Shh, it's okay. They're gone now… shhh." He leaned forward, resting a callused palm on her shoulder, and felt her freeze. She was curled up, knees to chest, clutching feebly at her ankles while the tears fled fast down her cheeks. There was a rather large bruise already forming at her throat, and the puffy cuts on her lips indicated that this had begun as a battle without magic.

"You're Evans, right, the Head Girl?"

They hadn't had much reason to talk to each other as of yet, but James would recognize that head of red hair anywhere. It was no wonder the shielding charm had withheld what was probably dozens of spells—she was particularly good at charms.

"I'm sorry—" He was surprised she could speak, between the whimpers. "I should have… I mean, I was just. I _know_ how to fight back, and then they came, and I just… I went blank. I'm sorry, so sorry. I should be _stopping_ these, not—but… I was just so surprised. And they were so… they…" She shuddered as her words fell off, and James eyes fluttered closed.

It hurt to look at someone like this. Whimpering second years was painful, yes, and watching while fourth year Hufflepuffs screamed was horrible. But Evans was capable, and calm, and confident—he had never seen her reduced to anything like this. And for some reason, that only made it worse.

"Hey, it's okay. You're alright, aren't you? And that was one of the best shielding charms I've ever seen—how long were you holding that?"

She snorted, an endearment he found somewhat surprising, but it seemed his words had helped somewhat, as her tears had now stopped. "That shielding charm was horrible, and if I was better at all this, then I never would have had to worry about making one. _You_ certainly don't."

"Four on one odds? I don't know—even I would have a hard time with that one. Especially since you had Dolohov on you."

Evans froze, fingers flying toward her lips, and the moment she realized she was bleeding the Head Girl simply leaned over and heaved all over the grass. James winced, but gathered her hair up swiftly in one hand, making sure none of the disgusting material would cling to it. They remained like that for some time, while she threw up what was probably everything she eaten that day and more, before she finally sat up, murmuring a cleansing charm to as to remove the remnants from her mouth.

"I'm sorry." She seemed to be saying that a lot, he observed. "It was just… his tongue was down my throat and it was so disgusting—you know?"

No, he didn't, a fact he was quite proud of, but James nodded sympathetically anyway. Standing up, he offered a hand to young woman, which she took with a grateful smile. Pulling her to her feet, James wrapped an arm supportively around her shoulders, allowing for her to lean into him.

"Now, we just have to figure out what we're going to do about this mess. If I know Dolohov at all, he isn't going to… to give up on you."

James glanced around, relieved to see that someone had already carted the Slytherins off to somewhere—the hospital wing, he expected. Making their way slowly across the pitch, he glanced expectantly at Evans, unsure of how she planned to proceed.

She was scowling at the ground, emerald gaze glaring with absolute loathing upon the poor blades of grass. The scene was hilarious, and if this had happened in any other situation, James might have laughed. Instead, he had to settle for doing so inwardly.

"Disgusting prat. If I just… I know the counter curses—I just blanked out." Her eyes flew up to his, imploring him to believe her. "He was just… there. And I have no practice, so it took so long for my mind to figure out what to do. It was like… like I went into slow motion while everyone else was still moving at regular speed, y'know?" She paused, biting her lips. "I suppose you don't know though, do you? You're always the one who breaks these things up, and I've never seen you have a problem before."

James laughed. "Believe me, I know the feeling. I've just been fighting these blokes for so long now that I know what I'm doing."

She seemed to be thinking. Her teeth were worrying her lip, and Evans was staring up at him with the concentration he had observed in her eyes whenever she was battling a particularly difficult charm. She appeared to make up her mind then, chin moving in a little nod of approval, before the words daringly passed her lips. "Well… What if you taught me? I mean, you could teach me how to, y'know—" She gestured hopelessly. "—spar?"

James paused in his step, taking the offer in, mentally weighing the pros and cons. It would make sense, after all. She wouldn't have made the Head Girl position if she wasn't exceptionally bright, and all it would take would be a few weeks of lessons for her to figure out how to use the intelligence when it was actually needed. Besides, with the Christmas hols coming up, he would have plenty of free time… "But what do we do with you until then? If Dolohov is… _interested_… then I have no doubt that he's going to be on you like a cat on a mouse."

She was worried again, he could tell, and the way her eyes were darting here and there was a clear indication of the fact that she would still be easily spooked. "Here, tell you what. How about we go up to the common room, and you can just go get some sleep, and we'll talk about it later, okay? He'll be up in the wing—or in detention—for a few days yet."

Her nod of acquiescence was enough to encourage him, and the pair continued on their way silently, both lost in thought.

* * *

He had it. It was four o'clock in the morning, pitch black outside, and the idea was probably quite stupid—but it would work. And James was quite determined to put it into to place as soon as possible.

Stumbling from his bed, he threw on an Arrows shirt, and was bounding down the stairs in less than a minute. A quick tap on the correct stone had him hurtling up a motionless staircase to the girls' dorms, intent on reaching the seventh year rooms. Halting at their door—one he knew well enough to get by—he cast a quick silencing charm on what were sure to be squeaky hinges.

Moments later, James was inside, moving effortlessly over piles of clothes and magazines and the like towards a bed he knew would be the Head Girl's. After all, it was the only one that was absolutely spotless, and he couldn't see Evans being anything but an orderly person.

Drawing the curtains back, he shook her shoulder roughly, tossing a hand over her mouth when she let out a shocked squeak. It took some time before her eyes adjusted to the light and she calmed down, but the astonishment in her eyes was clear even after she was settled. He drew him palm away slowly, and she spoke almost immediately, though her words were now little more than a whisper.

"What are you _doing_ in here?"

He grinned, eyes positively dancing in glee. "I've figured out how to make Dolohov keep his distance."

"Oh?" Her eyebrows had risen into the messy fall of her crimson locks, and she seemed rather hopeful despite her exhaustion.

"Evans, will you be my girlfriend?"

* * *

So, tell me, should I continue, or is this story just crap? 


	2. Two

Author's Notes: Thank you all so much for the support on the last chapter! I was so shocked when I came home to so many wonderful reviews; I nearly fell out of my chair.

* * *

"What!" The screech was barely past Evan's lips before James hand had covered her mouth once more, ignoring her wide-eyed stare momentarily. Two beds down, there was a rustling of covers, and the pair froze. He could have sworn that his heart was beating so furiously it would be enough to rouse anyone, but such was not the case—of which he was glad. He could only guess what someone would assume if they found him in here at night.

Of course, that sort of guess was exactly the thing they were going for, but still…

He shot her a sharp look, and he could see the recognition of the need for silence developing behind those pinpricks of light. Moments later, he was allowing her to breathe once more, and had slid surreptitiously onto the bed beside her.

A quick spell to remove their speech from the world around them, and James was facing her in the dark, hoping this wouldn't take too long to develop—he did want to get some sleep, after all.

"Listen, Evans. Your problem is that Dolohov, he… well, he… bloody hell, he wants you. So you need protection, right?"

She nodded, slowly, but he could see she still wasn't quite catching on. And girls accused _guys_ of being dense—honestly.

"So who is Dolohov afraid of?"

Evans paused, and he could tell she was exhausted by the way that it took her more than three seconds to figure out the answer. It wasn't every day you saw the Head Girl stumped for even the shortest amount of time. Admittedly, she had been through a rather horrid ordeal, but James couldn't help but find it odd anyway.

"Teachers?" Her response was timid, and it was only this revelation that caused him to bite back whatever sharp retort was hovering on his tongue. That was the kind of response one could expect from a former prefect, after all, but he still found it abhorrable.

"How about of the students?"

It was like a light went off and suddenly the dimness of sleep was gone from her emerald eyes, as was the confusion. "Oh—you, of course. And so, if you're going out with me—"

"—Then that means Dolohov has the threat of a duel hanging over his head if he so much as looks at you."

"And the fact that you're known for being overly possessive won't hurt, either." She stated this randomly, ponderously, as though it was a known fact, but James couldn't help but look annoyed. He wasn't possessive—he just didn't like other people taking advantage of his things. Was that so bad?

"How do I explain to my friends that I, quite out of the blue, decided to date you? I don't even really know you."

He paused. This was the part James didn't quite have sorted out, as he had simply raced from his bedroom the moment he figured out the solution. Gazing dimly at the overhanging crimson curtain, he mulled the possibility over in his mind, and found himself landing on nothing. With a slight shrug, he muttered, "I don't know."

Her mouth opened, as though to speak, before it closed once more. They continued on in this way for several more moments, she looking as if she was about to spill forth a spew of information, and he simply waiting. However, when no words came, James was forced to take action. "C'mon, if you have any idea, just say it. I'm up for almost anything."

"Well… what if we just, sort of, told them the truth?" His confused look prompted her onward, and Evans was left to nearly stumble over her words in her haste to get them out. "I mean, what if we just told them that Dolohov attacked me. And then you helped out, and we talked afterward, and we just sort of hit it off. So then—in one of those spontaneous things you randomly do—you decided to ask me out. And I just said yes. Because… because I was feeling a little hurt, and you made me feel happier, and I figured I'd just go for it."

James was grinning by the time her speech finally ended, both because of the fact that she had rambled so incessantly and because it was the perfect solution. Simple, easy, and not really a lie at all—which was good, because he was a terrible liar. That was Sirius's job, not his. "Sounds perfect, Evans. I'll meet you in the common room at seven, then, so we can make this whole routine public?"

He was already moving out of her bed as she spoke, but she was calling after him seconds later, softly. "Hey, wait." James turned, expectantly, with one eyebrow raised—not that she'd be able to see that in the dark. "If we're going to start this whole thing, then it's Lily, not Evans."

He paused, a brightly humored smile adorning his features momentarily, before he swept her a gallant little bow. "In the morning then, Lady Lily."

* * *

At precisely seven o'clock, Lily descended the staircase to find James waiting expectantly at the bottom. She offered him a shy smile, relaying her slightly insecure feelings as to the whole situation, and was rewarded by a reassuring grin. He didn't speak as she came down the final steps, and she could find no words to rove past her lips, so for a moment the two stood in awkward silence. Then James was sweeping forward to capture her hand casually in his, and began pulling her out of the room as though the gesture was an ordinary occurrence.

If it had been a cheesy romance novel, Lily suspected there would have been nonsense about how her hand fit perfectly in his and that she knew, in that moment, that she would be in love with him for all of eternity. However, she found his hand to be slightly callused and rather rough, and that it was so large in comparison to hers it simply swallowed it up. But the comforting squeeze he relayed with the slightest amount of pressure was nice, and the relief that perhaps this little ruse would work out all right cheered her greatly.

There were people staring. James noticed the looks of more than one gossiping girl, and several who were not of that genre. He tried not to grimace at their chatting, but an expression of resolute calm was the most he could manage. After all, as Head Boy and one of the most renowned students of the school, he was used to having eyes on him. He just wasn't used to the alarm and disapproval in them. After all, no one cared when he chased after a lovely Ravenclaw—she was one of them—but having Lily on his arm was a whole new idea.

"Is it really that surprising?" He had leaned over to whisper in her ear, attempting for a light tone. She offered him the tiniest of smiles, though no spoken response, just before they entered the Great Hall.

This would be the greatest test, of course. Antonin Dolohov would be waiting just past those doors, and James would be rather shocked if there wasn't some form of confrontation. One thing he knew about the slimy Slytherin was that he wasn't one to give up quickly—especially when he was being challenged.

More stunned gazes met their entry into the Hall, though for the most part it was simply passed over. Another one of James Potter's girls—no surprise there. It was only those who truly knew that the pair had hardly spoken in their life that found it strange.

And, of course, among them was Dolohov.

He had stood up almost the second Lily entered, and James could feel his eyes trailing over the two of them. The sharp gaze was prone first on their closeness, and then on their intertwined fingers, as James immediately drew his knew 'girlfriend' nearer to him. Antonin, giving up on this game of follow-the-leader with the eyes, marched swiftly from his chair to their position halfway to the Gryffindor table, a sneer on his features.

"Potter." The name was uttered crudely and with obvious derision, an emotion that was quite contrary to the drawn out syllables of his next, "Evans." Dolohov had turned her name into a sexual perversion with just the right tones of darkness and suggestion, a fact which set James off immediately.

"Dolohov." Lily remained silent behind him, but the smoldering gazes passing between the young men could not have been missed by anyone.

"Stolen a new play toy, Potter?" The crisp, silvery eyes were assessing the Head Girl as if she were a piece of meat or, at best, a prize horse. The glance didn't even flicker toward her face, instead choosing to remain locked upon everything below her neck, and causing Lily to flinch involuntarily as he ran his tongue along his lips.

"Actually, Lily is _my_ new girlfriend." Just the right touch of arrogance, and just the right authority to enforce the idea that she was his—and that such a thing made her off limits. To anyone.

"Really?" The tone was skeptical now, and James almost wished Lily would speak up, just so she could rid herself of this meek nature. "And when did that come about?"

The half-truth rolled smoothly on his lips, and he didn't so much as bat an eyelash, despite the fact that half the hall was watching. "Last night, in fact. We were talking, and we just really hit it off." Enough information to keep him satisfied, and not enough to tell him too much. Besides, the story would now be around the school before dinner, a fact that Lily and James were counting on.

"Ah. Well, congratulations, Potter. When you get done with her though, I'd love to have a go." One last leer and Dolohov was sauntering coolly back to his table, doing his best to appear just as standoffish as always. Yet James could tell he was, truthfully, supremely angered. And that, if it was any choice of Dolohov, Lily and James were going to see as little as possible of each other.

Which was something he would just have to remedy.

* * *

"No, no, no. C'mon Lily, I know you know this stuff—it's not that hard. Di_fin_do. Not di_fen_do. They're just pixies, don't worry."

This was Lily's fifth lesson in self-defense, and James was beginning to get very, very frustrated. Despite the fact that so far they had done nothing but practice on either extremely spiteful pixies or objects he charmed to move, she always seemed to freeze. And when Lily did manage to so much as try a spell, it tended to just fail altogether.

"Look, I'm just not good at this, okay? I don't… I just don't know how to stay focused. Maybe if you would help me with _that_ instead of just scowling like that, this wouldn't be so hard. It doesn't help my self confidence to see you looking so disappointed!" She paused for breath, and his eyebrows lifted behind the curtain of his dark hair. It was the first time he had ever heard her yell and was rather impressed with the tone of her voice and the intimidating picture she made. "I'm sorry."

"No," he rushed to correct her. "It's fine. We just need how to channel that anger into something more effective—like your wandwork. Hold on."

He had an idea. It was, again, a bit rash. But such things had a way of working themselves out. "Turn around." She obeyed, her back to him, and James quickly grabbed his previously discarded tie and transfigured it into an ebony scarf. Moving behind her, he draped the cloth casually over her eyes, noting the sharp intake of her breath. "Look, the thing that's going wrong is that you're getting distracted, right? So we're going to take away your distractions—make you rely on instinct. We'll start with just some charmed pillows again, okay? Is that too tight?" The slight shake of her head signified her comfort, and his hands dropped calmly to settle on her shoulders. "Just breathe Lily. It'll be fine." Another poignant nod and James stood back and quickly charmed a few pillows to begin their slow circle of the girl.

"Listen," he coaxed gently. "Act on what you feel, not what you see. Di_fin_do."

He saw her begin to regulate her breathing, deathly still so as to discover even the slightest change in the air. Her wand was at the ready, and James could already see she was beginning to pinpoint the slow turning of the pillows. This might actually work.

A swift flick of his wand, and one pillow was edging towards her, making its way from the left. He saw her pause, the slightest moment of hesitation, and then she was moving into a cool, "Difindo."

James nearly applauded as the object was ripped in half, but settled for words instead. "Excellent. Now the next ones, please…"

Nearly an hour later, Lily collapsed on the sofa beside James, grinning heartily. With only a few minor slipups, she had moved effortlessly through various different spells, and the remains of several slaughtered pillows littered the floor.

"You have a feather in your hair," he chuckled, his smile broadening as she tried hastily to seek it out and failed miserably. "Here, hold on." Nudging her fingers aside, he gathered the ivory object from just behind her ear, feeling utterly satisfied.

She promptly giggled at the feather and plucked it from his fingers, before depositing it into her pocket. "It'll be my good luck."

"If you keep that up, you won't need any luck."

Lily studied her nails from beneath lowered lashes, shrugging. "I don't know. It was only pillows. I think Dolohov has a bit more attacking power than a bundle of feathers—however lucky they are."

James laughed, looping an arm nonchalantly around her shoulders. "Naw, you really did good. A couple more weeks and you'll be better than me."

"Why James Potter," she demanded, jade gaze twinkling playfully, "when did you get so nice?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he lied, adopting a snooty air. "I'm always nice. Or at least, to those people that have a brain."

Lily slapped him lightly on the chest, and he captured her fingers within his own, now shaking his head. "Ah, ah, ah. Is that any way to thank me?"

"Oh, and how would you like to be thanked, Oh Great and Might James Potter?"

He was tempted to tease her, to beg a hug or a kiss or some form of sensuality, but she was too innocent for that. There was something about her nature that sang of a naïveté, and while it might have been ludicrous in anyone else, it only made Lily all the more endearing.

"C'mon," he stated standing and offering her a hand. "If we're gone too much longer, someone might actually miss us."

"Miss me, you mean," she toyed. "I don't know why they'd miss you."

"You do realize, Miss Evans, that that is twice in two minutes you have insulted me?"

"Mhmm."

"And you do realize that such an act deserves sever punishment?" The corners of his lips were being drawn once more into a wicked grin, but Lily no longer stood down.

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really." And with that, he promptly attacked her with his fingers, tickling her sides mercilessly. She practically fell onto the sofa once more, her giggles ringing with insane clarity as she gasped for breath. "Say it," James demanded, fighting from bursting into laughter himself.

"Say… what?" She was begging, gasping, and he was as cool as a cucumber.

"That I'm the nicest person you've ever met, and you'd miss me terribly if I was gone."

"You—" she panted between breaths "—are the—nicest—_nicest_—person that I've—I've met. And—and—and I'd miss you—loads—if you were–gone."

He completed his tickling match, grinning down cheerfully at Lily. "Good girl."

"Better than you, you rotten little unloved boy," she cackled, before twisting past him to begin her way down the hall. Chasing after her with all the speed of his Quidditch reflexes, the sound of the Head Boy and Girl's laughter rang throughout the hall for some while yet—and no one doubted that they were together.

* * *

Thank you all again so much for the reviews. I'll answer any questions, and I wish I had space to reply to you all, but unfortunately, I hate taking up room to do that. Do you all think I should have a livejournal I can post responses at, like Sarinileni? Do tell.

And to **Leaves of Autumn**: This really isn't intended to be much more than very short, so don't expect loads of character development. I will do my best, but I'm not a big fan of flashbacks and stuff, so there probably won't be any. I'm sorry.


	3. Three

Author's Notes: I'm so sorry this took so long! My computer had a virus, and I couldn't reach the document for ages—luckily, it didn't die, but I haven't been able to work on it. Thank you all again so much! And I did make an lj for updating and reviews—it's linked as my homepage. Hope you like this next chapter!

* * *

"That was good," James commented as he dropped lazily onto the plush sofa. "Really good. You're doing a lot better than two weeks ago—I think I'll start practicing with you tomorrow."

Lily fell onto the couch beside him, sighing. She huffily blew away a riotous red curl, not having the energy to redo what had become a sloppy ponytail. "I'm _tired_."

He chuckled amiably, "You should be. You finished off the last of the pixies—and all in one go."

"Mhmm." James could see that she was practically falling asleep as she sat. A little more than a week after their first successful practice, and he was amazed at the progress she had made. Lily had gone from freezing at the sight of a moving object to being fully capable of hexing them thoroughly, without the use of a blindfold. Of course, she could do it with the scarf over her eyes as well, which was the thing James found most impressing. He wasn't altogether sure that _he_ could do that.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," he murmured, nudging her with his elbow. In reply, Lily simply allowed her eyelids to shutter closed and promptly dropped her cheek onto his shoulder.

"I'm tired."

"Yes, you said that already." He draped his arm loosely around her waist, drawing his Head Girl closer so that she might be more comfortable. They had become close friends in the past several days, and he was inwardly shocked that he had never really noticed her before. She was an amazing sort of person to be around, and he had fallen into the familiarity of friendship with a natural, cheerful ease.

Placing a light, companionable kiss on the top of her frizzy hair, he asked, "Has Dolohov talked to you lately?"

"No." Lily's reply was worn and edged with the tint of slumber; she was going to fall asleep soon, unless he had something to occupy her with. "He stares at me in class, and he does that leering thing a lot. But mostly, the only time he can talk to me is before or after something, and you're always there when that happens." She paused. "Thanks again."

"Don't worry about it," he stated simply, and meant it. He liked spending time with her, especially now that the inane gossip had begun to quiet. "What about yesterday, when break started? He didn't try to talk to you then, did he?"

"Huh uh," her voice was quieter now, and he had to lean his head slightly to hear it. Her eyes fluttered open, and emerald gazed sweetly up at him, "Only that one time, and you came then, too." A pause, a glance down, and before her eyes returned to his line of vision. "I really mean it—thank you. I don't know what I'd've done otherwise."

He was transfixed. For the first time in a long time, James found himself lost for words, as he stared down into the deepest pools of jade he'd ever seen. It was as if his awareness of Lily—her face on his shoulder, her waist at his hand, the brush of her hair against his neck—was suddenly increased tenfold. It was only when she broke eye contact, glancing away shyly, that he managed to unstick his tongue from his throat. "I already said don't worry about it."

"I know." Lily drew away from him, lifting her head and standing slowly. Her arms stretched lazily into the air, and she yawned while climbing to the tip of her toes. "We should go back."

"Yea." He was still a little confused. Whatever had happened just then, he wasn't sure he liked it. It made him feel blank, as if he was the one who had lost his mind in the face of danger. It wasn't an emotion that made him feel comfortable, and though James wouldn't have classified it under 'bad,' he might have called it 'distinctly unsettling.'

He stood beside her, stretching a bit himself. "I'm off to Quidditch practice anyway. Tomorrow at seven?"

"See you then," Lily commented lightly, and smiled. Again, there was the twisting of his stomach, and the idea that suddenly drifted cunningly into his mind. _Her smile is beautiful._

* * *

James ambled through the corridors, having just returned from a rather ferocious snowball fight with Sirius. His cloak was drenched, but luckily he had had the sense to perform a protective drying spell on the rest of his clothes, and only needed to remove the stuffy thing to get dry.

Dragging the black garment from is shoulder, he collided into yet another wanderer, and made to apologize before realizing it was none other than Lily Evans—and that she was probably headed to their practice as well.

"Fancy seeing you here," James grinned.

She smiled warmly back, teasing him with her tone, "Drat. And I was planning on skipping lesson for once—my teacher is such a bore."

He swatted her arm playfully, before grabbing her elbow and beginning to drag her down the corridor. "Not so fast, young lady. Don't you know that school is only—"

"—for your benefit in gaining a successful and rewarding career, blah blah blah. That speech is the only thing I hate about Defense. Burns gives it every year, every semester, and it drives me crazy." She rolled her eyes, the action making her seem somehow both childish and annoyed at once.

"Yea, me too," James replied, releasing her from his hold though they continued in the direction of the Room of Requirement. "That class is so pointless this year though. I mean, most of the stuff we're learning is just theory. And while dark magic—especially this advanced stuff—is kind of creepy, we're never going to learn anything unless we practice it."

"I know! I mean, honestly, it's not as if we're three or—"

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Potter and Evans having a nice _friend_ly chat." Dolohov had rounded the corner just ahead of him, and the pair found themselves stopped dead in their tracks as he languidly blocked the way through the narrow holiday. "How pleasant."

"Sod off, Dolohov," James commented sharply as he stepped automatically closer to Lily. His shoulder brushing her shoulder, he could literally feel her shaking. Practice or no, she was still no closer to beating her fear of the Slytherin.

"Actually, I had a question for Lily here." James growled at the mention of her name, vehement in the idea that he did not have the right to call Lily by her first name, but Antonin did not give him the chance to bite back. "See, I was thinking that, since you really don't seem to know much in Burns class, that maybe I could," he took a deliberate pausing, argent eyes stroking her figure sadistically, "_teach_ you a bit about the… _Arts_."

Now James stalked forward, moving furiously in front of Lily. "In case you didn't understand the first time, Dolohov, hands off. She's _mine_." Even he was surprised at the venom that laced his words. For a moment, James suspected that he might have actually meant the phrase that just spilled from his lips, but thrust the thought quickly aside. He and Lily were friends only, and though the world believed they were dating, they both knew that to be untrue. And wanted it that way.

"Is she, Potter?" Now Dolohov was smirking, his glance traveling slyly to the object of his interest. "Because I'm really beginning to think that this whole thing is fake. I haven't even seen you kiss her, Potter—and normally you're girlfriends are practically giving you head at the breakfast table."

It took every inch of his self control not to punch the bloody beast straight in the nose, but James had not learned nothing in his life. The best way to prove a point was neither to fight nor try with words—an argument only lent to their amusement and speech rarely convinced anyone. The only way to prove something was to do it.

More rapidly than James knew how to think, he was half turning where he stood. One palm flying to cup Lily's cheek and willing her with a glance to just go along with this mess, he saw only her startled green eyes before he shoved his lips upon hers.

It was not a fairy tale kiss. It was filled with rage and irritation and factuality, and there was no sweetness to it all. A brief, hard crush of mouth against mouth, with James noting only momentarily that her lips were infinitely soft, before he was drawing back to face Dolohov.

"Satisfied?"

The Slytherin scowled, glancing at James's blazing eyes and Lily's blushing cheeks only momentarily before nodding and sauntering off down the corridor. The minute he was gone, Lily fled, and James was left to chase after her.

"Lily! Lily, hold up a second! Listen, I didn't—I'm sorry—I didn't mean to but there was nothing else—"

They both tore through an archway, finding themselves in an unknown room. It was small, nearly windowless, and the only block of light shimmered from the tiny, open frame of a ragged hole—indeed, James wasn't even sure as to whether it was a window or simply a hole.

She had thrown herself down on the plum colored couch, her face hidden behind her hands. Halting once he entered the chill room, James glanced anxiously down at her while he edged towards where she sat.

"Lily." There was no response. "Lily, c'mon, look at me." Still, she stared into her hands, and he couldn't tell whether she was crying or simply shaking. "Look, Lily, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—to take advantage of you like that. I just didn't know what else to do."

Her fingers dropped from her face, and the startling clarity of her emerald gaze clashed defiantly with the violet of the couch. "You didn't have to do that."

He sighed, settling Indian style on the floor a few feet from her feet, leaning against an ancient wooden table. "I know. But, I mean, what else was I going to do? He can't find out—if he did, he'd never give you up. Dolohov doesn't understand the idea of friends being protected by other friends."

For some reason, this statement only served to infuriate Lily more, and she glared ferociously down at him. "Don't you _care_?" She demanded angrily.

James was confused. Did he care that the bastard wanted to hurt her? Yes. Did he care that she was upset? Yes. But he thought that was obvious. "What do you mean?"

She tossed her hands into the air, staring up at the ceiling as though searching for an answer. Still befuddled, James persisted in his questioning. "What?"

Lily only shook her head, but when she stood and moved towards the doorway, he called out a final time. Turning as his question was repeated, she only frowned down at him, commanding quietly, "Open your eyes, James."

* * *

He had not been able to fall asleep. Her words were in his mind constantly, drifting and spinning and twisting until he was even more confused than he had been in the beginning. She had told him to open his eyes, and now he couldn't close them

Lily hadn't come to practice today. Indeed, he hadn't seen her at all. Upon inquiry, he had only gotten a glare from her friends, and it wasn't as if he could ask the teachers why she hadn't been in class—since, obviously, there was no class. And so now, for the second night in a row, he was lying in his bed silently, studying the crimson curtain above his head.

James still wasn't sure what she had meant. What he was sure of, however, was that he wasn't going to let her avoid him much longer. For some reason, he already missed her beyond compare, and he there was no way that he was letting her avoid him all break or something similarly foolish.

The rest of the night was spent tossing and turning. On occasion, he slept, but never for very long, and always with dreams of blazing green eyes and drifting red hair. He awoke exhausted, muddled, and achy. But he awoke determined.

James checked her room first. In any other case, he might have simply used the map, but Peter had mistakenly taken it home over break. The discovery that she was not in her bed, even so early in the morning, worried him. The image of Dolohov played viciously into his brain, taunting him in a malicious attempt to frighten him. Him taunting Lily, torturing Lily, drawing Lily closer and closer and...

James shuddered in horror. No, that wasn't going to happen. He wasn't going to let it happen. Ever.

She wasn't in the Room of Requirement either. Or the Great Hall. Or the Astronomy tower. Or any of the normal classrooms. Or the Quidditch pitch. Indeed, he was nearly struck by the urge to barge into the Slytherin common room and demand to know what Antonin had done with her, when the notion struck to attempt to find the arched room from the night of their quarrel.

He wasn't altogether sure where it was, but James soon set to combing the area it could have inhabited. Room after room, locked door after locked door, he set ponderously upon the section of corridor. He had done this enough times, scavenging for a half-remembered room, to be systematic about it. It was all a matter of touching on every centimeter of possibility, even if it meant walking in circles and shouting random words.

And then he had it. A sharp turn, and image in the mind, and the way was there. As was Lily.

She looked up when he entered. Her scarlet hair had been drifting over the pages of a worn, thin book, her quill hovering above it, but now they were both set aside. She had expected him, at some point in time. He wasn't sure whether that was good or bad.

"Lily—" he began, but the word was cut off by her reassuringly crisp words.

"I'm sorry for running off, James. And for not showing up to lesson yesterday. I was just… surprised. And a little bit afraid as well. I don't—I just wasn't expecting that. I know it was the reasonable thing to do, and I want to thank you for having a clear head. The way you made such an emotionless decision so quickly was... enlightening." For some reason, he didn't think the last phrase was intended to be praise. Her voice had been cool, planned out, but the last line was edged with derision. For what, he was not entirely sure, but it was just another aspect of his Lily to ponder later.

"I don't want to hurt you, Lily." It was the first thing out of his mouth and, judging by the exasperated expression that flashed through her eyes, it was not satisfactory. He wasovercome by the urge to take two steps forward and rid her face of that look, but the ways in which he planned to do that were not appropriate for a friendly relationship. James wasn't even sure why the idea was flashing through his head. "You're my… my friend, so I don't want to do anything but make you happy. I shouldn't have kissed you, and I can't apologize enough, but…" But what? But could he try it again? No, no, that wasn't the words that were supposed to come out. She wouldn't like that very much, and again, where was this coming from? "But I can't take it back now. Am I forgiven?"

She smiled tightly, though he could tell there remained something that was upsetting her about the situation. "How could I not forgive a friend?"

He grinned, pulling her from the sofa and wrapping her in a tight hug. "Don't you ever fight with me again, love," James whispered fiercely into her ear. "You drove me crazy."

He drew back, holding her shoulders at arms length before him, grinning. Her eyes were still haunted, and the smile she attempted was shallow, but all that mattered at that moment was that they were friends again. Thank Merlin.

"C'mon—you missed yesterday, so we're going to have to worktwice ashard today." And with that, he was swinging his arm casually around her shoulders and leading her jovially off to lesson. Things were right now. They were as they should be. Friends, no more and no less, and that was what he wanted.

Wasn't it?

* * *

Two more chapters to go-o. And I'm sorry for this one being so lame--I'm tired. 


End file.
